Working with You
by Kaiser Washington
Summary: Ulquiorra has to keep his contempt for his fellow Espada in check when Aizen sends him and Grimmjow on a mission together.


Summary: Ulquiorra has to keep his contempt for his fellow Espada in check when Aizen sends him and Grimmjow on a mission together.

A/N: This was originally published way back in 2009. I got something like four chapters in before abandoning it. I've uploaded the first chapter pretty much as it was back then, but it will be a new story from this point on, since what I wrote earlier was stupid.

Also, I've been away from this category for so long that I'm not sure what people are reading anymore. I'm unaware if fan fiction has kept up with the current arc, and if that's all that people are interested in reading nowadays. I don't think I could write about the current arc. It's not fanfic-worthy.

* * *

 **Working with You**

 **Chapter 1**

If there had been any need for me to greet every fellow Espada whenever our paths crossed, I would indefatigably have to say 'Hello!' over and over again like a broken record. More often than not, my meeting with a fellow Espada was neither accidental nor official: it owed itself singularly to the fact that the other party exhibited curiosity in the matter of my inscrutable, if not nonexistent, personal life.

I think it is my reticence that encourages them to poke their noses into places where they shouldn't be poking them. If every Espada's idiosyncrasies aroused curiosity, no Espada would ever be found in his own quarters. But that isn't, however, the case, seeing as I seem to be the only one who attracts attention for who I am.

For example, just now, when I finished changing into a fresh uniform in preparation for the Espada meeting that is held every morning, I opened the door to find Grimmjow listening keenly at the keyhole—to what, I couldn't tell: I am not in the habit of talking to myself—or anyone beyond a certain limit, for that matter—nor do I make much noise while changing my clothes. But the fact was that he seemed to be listening to something from outside my door, and when I asked him what he was doing, he started, laughed sheepishly and stammered something about wanting to make sure the keyhole wasn't clogged.

I, of course, did not buy his story: only a three-year-old would believe such foolishness.

What was most disturbing was that that was the fifth time I had caught Grimmjow standing outside my door for no reason at all, and coming up with the most ridiculous story when I asked him what he was doing. Naturally, I wouldn't let this slide that easily.

"I got my keyhole changed just yesterday," I lied.

"Oh… really?" said Grimmjow stupidly.

"Yes. And if keyholes were of paramount importance to you, you should instead be checking on yours: the last time I passed by your door, the lock was in two pieces," I lied again. I wasn't in the habit of lying, but if one wants to attain satisfaction, one must make concessions.

"Shit!" said Grimmjow. "You serious?"

I nodded. Grimmjow always asked pointless questions in a miserable attempt at making the other party take back what they had said if it was unpleasant. I avoided answering such questions: if I answered even one, I would have to say, Yes, at least a hundred million times to the questions that followed. A nod sufficed for so long as I had the patience to put up with his unintelligent questions.

"Really?"

I nodded.

"My lock's broken?"

I nodded.

"That means I'm locked outside my room?"

I nodded.

"And I can't get in?"

I shook my head. A pardonable miscalculation on my part: a nod _or_ a shake of the head sufficed, depending on whichever was called for.

"You're not kidding?"

I shook my head.

"Really?"

I nodded.

"And if I can't get in, then—"

I put up my hand to silence him.

"No more," I said. "We are getting late for a meeting. You wouldn't want to displease Aizen-sama, I suppose?"

Grimmjow reluctantly ceased bombarding me with questions, and conceded that we were, indeed, getting late for the meeting.

"All right, whatever," said Grimmjow peevishly. "But if it turns out that you're the one who broke my lock, I'll break your neck."

I ignored him, as I often did, and began walking in the direction of the Conference Room, as Aizen-sama preferred to call it. I have no preferences: I'm not much of an expert at naming things, and as such, don't have much regard for names in general. If I had any, I would be profoundly offended by the ones that have bestowed on me.

"You can't ignore me like that!" Grimmjow yelled after me in indignation.

"Of course, I can, trash," I said, turning around briefly to shower him with my attention, which he did not deserve. "I just did," I added to achieve that patronizing tone that was very apt to make Grimmjow lose the little self-control he possessed, and become outraged to the point of attempting to attack me.

My taunts had the desired effect. From the corner of my eye, I saw Grimmjow clenching his fists, possibly in preparation for shooting a bala at me.

"Ulquiorra," he said in what was, I gathered, his idea of a threatening tone. It had no effect whatsoever on me.

"You'd better watch out," he said, and I find it utterly superfluous to add the adverb 'warningly', seeing as I had neither any regard for his unintelligent words, nor any patience to pretend otherwise. In other words, he probably only _thought_ he had warned me against something terrible.

On my part, I paid him no attention, and pretended that I hadn't even heard him.

"Hey!" he called after me when I had put a good thirty feet between us (the fool hadn't moved an inch). "You can't just walk away like that! At least _pretend_ you heard me! Damn it!"

His indignation invigorated me. But it is part of my nature to revel in others' misfortune. Grimmjow mustn't bethink himself too special. He is a disgrace to all forms of life within and without Hueco Mundo.

He gasped suddenly, and I stopped in my tracks. For a split second, I was predisposed to believe that my pulchritude had knocked the little sense he had had straight out of his head. But that, as I realized when I turned around, was not the case. Grimmjow's gasp attributed itself to the fact that he had punched the wall, failing to notice in his impatience to intimidate me that a large rusty nail had been protruding from it—one of the few anomalies of Las Noches that Gin Ichimaru had been ordered to fix, and had obviously neglected to do so. So Grimmjow had his fist impaled by the said nail, and as one can imagine without much difficulty, it occasioned him much pain, the fact that he was in possession of Hierro notwithstanding.

I turned around and resumed my journey to the Espada meeting, leaving Grimmjow to languish with nothing but his bloody fist to keep him company and act as a reminder of the fact that he could bleed blood like anyone else, and that he shouldn't go around punching walls without first ascertaining that there was nothing on them that could cause him to bleed.

Subterfuge, I knew for a fact, was not one of my strong points, but my shot at it today was obviously successful, if my lie had managed to actually (albeit indirectly) make someone as thick (quite literally, since he had Hierro) as the Sexta Espada bleed.

* * *

As I entered the Conference Room, it didn't escape my ever watchful eyes that a number of Espada were conspicuously absent: Grimmjow, was one, of course, since the condition I had last seen him in had most probably rendered the weak fool incapable of attending any meeting for the next seven days; Zommari was another, and although I wouldn't bat an eyelid if I learned that he had killed himself in his sleep while performing some of the more ridiculous postures of yoga, the fact that he failed to show up for an Espada meeting when he was always eloquent in proclaiming his unwavering loyalty to Aizen-sama earned him my scorn; the "royal" Barragan was also missing, but I had no choice but to condone this transgression because of his age and the fact that he ranked higher than I did in the Espada. And of course, Aizen-sama and his two Soul Reaper subordinates weren't there either. They generally preferred to arrive fashionably late to these meetings. I'm not disdaining Aizen-sama—I would not do such a thing if my life depended on it. Aizen-sama is, of course, very wise to choose not to arrive early to these meetings, since the first fifteen minutes or so inevitably go wasted in useless, inane, and usually acrimonious conversation among those Espada who feel the need to assert themselves. I'm largely referring to Nnoitra, of course, who when I turned to look at him was waving his oversized hand at me, and displaying his oversized tombstone teeth in a lascivious manner.

"Hey, Ulquiorra!" he called, and his voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Come sit over here, next to me. What're you looking at?"

Whatever it was that he thought I was looking at, it was definitely not him. Looking at someone as unsightly as Nnoitra was the last thing any self-respecting living being would want to do. Unless, of course, it was masochistic, and I am not a masochist by any means.

At any rate, I completely ignored Nnoitra and went and sat in my designated chair, which was, fortunately, not immediately next to Nnoitra's. Stark separated us.

I could see from the corner of my eye that Nnoitra was scowling at me.

"You asshole!" he yelled. "I told you to sit next to me!"

"Fool," I said. "Stark is sitting there."

Nnoitra scowled at Stark, who seemed too preoccupied with trying to attain a comfortable position in which to rest his head on the table to notice.

"I could ask Stark to move," said Nnoitra coolly.

"Besides," I went on, "why would I want to sit next to trash like you?"

I could hear Nnoitra grit his teeth, and I shut my eyes in patient anticipation of an attack. I didn't generally like proving things to people, but I enjoyed showing pests like Nnoitra and Grimmjow just how much weaker than me they were.

Nnoitra stopped gritting his teeth, and for the second time that day, I felt disappointed.

"Why would you want to sit next to trash like me?" said Nnoitra, and I could picture him leering. "Because you want me to _do_ things to you, that's why!"

I was disgusted. When vulgarity is an inherent part of someone's character, you don't often expect them to say anything decent. But Nnoitra had just succeeded in completely redefining my idea of vulgarity. Not only that, he had insulted me in the worst manner possible, and in the presence of other people, at that.

Stark had ceased his futile attempts at falling asleep, and now focused his attention singularly on me. Even Halibel, who usually did not concern herself with the imbecilities of lesser people, shifted her gaze between Nnoitra and me incredulously, as if trying to picture us engaged in the activity that Nnoitra mentioned and I wish to avoid mentioning. Yammy goggled at me, and honestly, he couldn't have looked any stupider if he had tripped over a banana peel and fallen off one of Las Noches's high walls.

I was beginning to feel self-conscious, so I closed my eyes again, and pretended that I was contemplating the infinite. I had no plans of opening my eyes. That is, until a tap on my shoulder roused me from my contemplations.

It was Stark.

"Uh, Ulquiorra," he said, "Aizen-sama's here."

I was as close to starting as I had ever come in my life, and I stood up.

Aizen-sama glanced in my direction, and his lips curled in an almost invisible smile. I got the impression that he was amused by my behavior.

"Good morning, my dear Espada," said Aizen-sama.

It was a good thing he did not usually expect anyone to return his greeting, or he would have been perplexed by the lack of speech the Espada exhibited now. I, personally, would have greeted him, if it had been in my nature to greet people.

"Sit down," he said.

We all sat down.

"Now, before we discuss the matter that I wanted to discuss with you," said Aizen-sama, "let's have some tea."

I was not a very big fan of tea, but I had to admit, a cup of tea in the morning was just something else. You wouldn't find anything that tasted remotely like it anywhere in Hueco Mundo if you spent a lifetime searching.

The tea was brought.

I gripped the ear of my cup, brought it to my lips, and sipped its contents. I immediately regretted being so hasty when I realized I had scalded my tongue. I still wasn't used to the fact that Soul Reapers preferred most of their meals and drinks hot. In fact, in Hueco Mundo, the word "hot" referred largely to a highly pulchritudinous being of the same or the opposite sex—in the vocabulary of people such as Grimmjow or Nnoitra—and sometimes to describe the state of one's body during or after strenuous physical activity. If you told someone in Hueco Mundo that "the food was hot," you would not be giving them a very favorable impression of the state of your faculties.

"Are you all right, Ulquiorra?" asked Aizen-sama.

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

"Drink the tea carefully. _It's hot_ _._ "

I nodded.

To my left, Nnoitra was snickering away in abandon, presumably because the fact that I had neglected to gauge the temperature of the brew before drinking it rendered me something of what could only be described as the laughing stock of those who cared to laugh at such pointless things. I think the word he constantly uses to describe me is "emo". He omitted to tell me what it meant when I asked him once, and ignored me when I put the same question to him a second time, and hence, whenever Nnoitra runs into me, I find myself in the exceedingly awkward situation of being laughed at for something I don't understand.

"It's hot, ain't it, Cuarta?" said Nnoitra, winking.

I paid him no attention. Attention is what people like him crave, and attention is what people like me should not give people like him for fear of making their already bloated egos and exaggerated senses of self-worth grow substantially larger.

"Damn you, Cuarta! Talk to me!"

That was precisely what I was determined not to do. There could be no doubt about the fact that Nnoitra, that embodiment of debauchery, was even trashier than the Sexta, who merely flirted with debauchery whenever he felt the need to do so. Nnoitra was egregiously foul in his speech, a quality that aroused mixed feelings in every, and caused Tousen to excoriate him at every opportunity he got.

Unfortunately no amount of denunciation could improve Nnoitra's character, and at the end of the day, Hueco Mundo continues to be stuck with him. Even more unfortunate is the fact that his conversion into an Arrancar is irrevocable: not even Aizen-sama could change him back into a Hollow and send him off if he wanted to. And Aizen-sama has hinted several times at being fed up with the Quinta.

"Cuarta, I'm warning you," said Nnoitra, slapping his palms down on the table and rising. "If you don't look this way and respond to me _right now_ , I'll—"

"That's enough Nnoitra."

It was Aizen-sama. His tone was so cold that it almost made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on their ends, and I opened my eyes in spite of myself.

"Your immaturity astounds me," Aizen-sama went on. "Unless you want to be demoted from the Espada, you will not say another word to Ulquiorra."

Nnoitra sat back down in his chair and stared petulantly at the opposite wall.

"And now, my dear Espada," said Aizen-sama. His tone had returned to normal. "I would like to discuss some important matters with you. But—oh? It appears that a few people have failed to show up."

"Barragan, Grimmjow, and Zomari, sir," said Halibel.

Aizen-sama nodded.

"I've noticed," he said. "Is there any particular reason for their absence?"

"Yes, Aizen-sama," I said. "I know why the Sexta is absent. He impaled his fist on a nail on the South Wall when he punched it."

Several of the Espada winced at the thought.

"I see," said Aizen-sama unconcernedly. "Gin, didn't I tell you to fix those?"

Gin Ichimaru smilingly stepped up, and bowed before Aizen-sama.

"Forgive me, Captain Aizen," he said. "I forgot."

"Fix it by the end of the day."

Gin bowed once more.

"Yes, Captain Aizen."

Aizen-sama dismissed him with a wave of his hand in a manner I found both charming and awe-inspiring. I have to admit, the quality in Aizen-sama that enables him to command such a lot of respect without any visible effort is something I would die for. My life would have been a lot easier and more peaceful if I received the respect I was entitled to: people like Grimmjow and Nnoitra would be kissing my feet, and I would have the satisfaction of finally feeling like the Cuarta Espada.

But unfortunately that was not the case, and those two barbarians behave to me as if I were their servant. It is slightly ironic, in the sense that I could do away with them with a flick of a finger if I so pleased, and slightly more ironic that both of them were aware of this. It wasn't fearlessness that emboldened them but their vast reserves of foolishness. Someone like me, who have consistently been described as intelligent, would find it remarkable, and positively amazing that it is possible for beings with negative IQs to exist. And yet, Grimmjow and Nnoitra are undeniably there.

"So as I was saying," said Aizen-sama gravely, and my attention returned to the Conference Room, "there are some very important matters I wish to discuss with you."

The Espada were all listening with rapt attention.

"But first, will you answer a question for me?" Aizen-sama went on. "Are you willing to cooperate with each other and act as a single group instead of ten individuals with drastically separate ideas who can't stand the presence of any of the others?"

There was a silence heavy with suspense as the Espada took time to consider the question. I already had my answer ready, of course: I would do anything Aizen-sama asked me to do without the slightest hesitation.

Ordinarily, Barragan was the first to break the silence in situations like this, and I assume that, had he been present at this meeting, he would have done so and proceeded to proclaim his loyalty to Aizen-sama (the "Boss") in the most grandiloquent way, talking repetitively for what usually appeared to be hours (except on Sundays) on the matter. But Barragan was absent, so the silence wasn't broken. Stark looked so sleepy that I was predisposed to believe that Aizen-sama's question bounced off his head without penetrating it. Halibel, the highest-ranking Espada after Stark and Barragan, appeared loath to speak: reticence was a quality that she prided herself on, and it did not look as if she wanted to suffer the indignity of being accused of being out of character just yet. As fate would have it, I was next in line.

"Aizen-sama," I said, drawing his attention, and proceeding to give him my answer.

Aizen-sama smiled at me in a manner that I considered fatherly, and looked around the room, as if challenging someone to give him a dissentient opinion—the other major supporters of the idea being Aizen-sama himself, and, of course, his two Soul Reaper subordinates.

Nobody appeared to protest what I had said (except for Nnoitra, who was about to utter something foul in connection with, I should think, my appearance, or the fact that to someone as demented as he was, loyalty and flattery were the same thing. He was discouraged from doing so by a sharp glance from Aizen-sama.) Aizen-sama nodded and decided finally to disclose to us what the important matter was that required that the Espada cooperate with each other.

"As you all know," he said, "I have a particular interest in a certain region in the World of the Living called Karakura Town. It is imperative that Karakura Town be under our control for me to achieve my goals. The only problem is that the Soul Society has certain… connections in that town, and frequently sends Soul Reapers to check on the situation there. Perhaps it's just a coincidence and they are, in reality, not cognizant of my aims. But it cannot be denied that they're a major hindrance in my plans. You are doubtless familiar with a person known as the 'Substitute Soul Reaper'? He is a potential threat to me. Are you with me so far?"

All of us nodded.

"Good," Aizen-sama said. "So can you guess what job I have in store for you?"

"We need to eliminate all the Soul Reapers who visit Karakura Town, along with this Substitute," I blurted out, and, surprisingly, Nnoitra seemed to nod vigorously in concurrence with my suggestion. He usually disagreed strongly with anything I agreed with or proposed, even if he scarcely understood it.

Aizen-sama smiled.

"That is all for another time," he said. "What I want you to do is to simply go down to the World of the Living—to this Karakura Town place—and gather all the information about its spiritual state."

"Oh," I said, feeling rather stupid, and I could literally hear Nnoitra's vivacity deflate like a balloon and return to its former state of petulance.

"So which of you would like to go? I'm sending you, of course, Ulquiorra. But I'll need another person to go accompany you. Any volunteers? Yammy?"

Yammy shook his head.

"No," he said flatly. "I don't want to."

Aizen-sama nodded.

"Very well, then."

Sometimes I felt he was much too clement in the face of insubordination. That disrespectful idiot Yammy had the cheek to say No flatly to Aizen-sama. Aizen-sama should have killed him right away, as I would have preferred to do.

"Why don't you go, then? Grimmjow?"

I turned my attention to the staircase that led down to the Conference Room, for that was where Aizen-sama's gaze was focused. There, standing on the top of the staircase, was the Sexta. I noticed at once that his injured fist was wrapped in one of the sleeves of his jacket, which he seemed to have torn off roughly. He had no sense of hygiene at all.

"Er," said Grimmjow, obviously nervous about arriving so late to the meeting. "As you wish, Aizen-sama."

Aizen-sama nodded.

"Then it's settled," he said. "Ulquiorra, Grimmjow, both of you shall leave for the World of the Living this evening."

I wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of going on a mission with someone as retarded as the Sexta, but I was the last person to object to Aizen-sama's orders.

I nodded.

"Yes, Aizen-sama," I said.

And I noticed out of the corner of my eye that, for some strange reason, Grimmjow's gaze was fixed on my backside.

tbc.


End file.
